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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26263108">never gonna hold the hand of another</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinAngel/pseuds/RinAngel'>RinAngel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, American AU, Angst, Depression, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Idek why did I write this, Lots of Crying, M/M, Military, Possible Character Death, Sad Ending</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:34:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,110</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26263108</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinAngel/pseuds/RinAngel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten can't resist a man in uniform, no matter what that uniform might eventually take away from him.</p><p>Johnny thinks he's ready to put his life on the line for his country, until his life becomes the tender-hearted pacifist he met by a stroke of pure luck.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>never gonna hold the hand of another</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Funny, it was the uniform that had drawn Ten in.</p><p>“Kun, look at this guy I matched with. He’s <em> gorgeous.” </em></p><p>Kun leaned over Ten’s shoulder to glance at his phone, clicking his tongue in contempt before turning to tend to a pot on the stove. It was a Friday night tradition: Kun finished work early, giving him time to cook a nice meal for the two of them, and Ten would pay back his hospitality with wine and companionship.</p><p>“You and your big muscle men,” Kun teased, glancing back over his shoulder. “He’s pretty hot, but I wouldn’t want to date an army guy. Not for anything serious, anyway. Are you gonna try and fuck him?”</p><p>Ten wasn’t looking for anything serious, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t imagine an eternity wrapped up in this guy’s arms. Johnny Suh, age 24, 10 miles away according to Tinder. <em> Made in the U.S.A, parts from Korea, </em> his profile humorously advertised, which made Ten’s mouth twitch into a smile; below that, though, was a statement that made his heart speed up a little bit: <em> No hookups, no fakes, no drama. I’m ready to find something real. </em></p><p>“Oh my god, wait, what is that look on your face? Are you falling in love with him from <em> one </em> picture?” Kun scolded playfully when Ten was silent. “Aren’t military guys supposed to be, like, stoic and emotionless? Isn’t that a stereotype? You wouldn’t be able to <em> take </em> having someone who didn’t fawn over your greatness every second. Besides— I don’t know, how could you date someone who does something so dangerous? What if you fall in love, get established, start a family, and then he gets sent overseas?”</p><p>“Your boyfriend is a cop!”</p><p>“My boyfriend is a <em> campus security guard. </em> There is a <em> massive </em> difference.”</p><p>Kun had him there. Ten gnawed on his bottom lip for a moment, suddenly thinking to chime in, “He has <em> four </em> pictures, not just one. Look, he has dimples! Ah, his <em> smile—” </em></p><p>The phone buzzed in his hands. Johnny had sent the first message: a GIF of Hello Kitty, waving shyly. The simplicity, the <em> stupidity. </em>Without even meaning to, Ten fell in love, and without dignifying Kun with another word, he started to type a response.</p><p>//</p><p>How had it been that simple back then? A snap decision, he supposed— Ten had always been bad about his impulses. He wanted something, he took it. Advice was just advice, and not binding in the least.</p><p>And truly, even standing out on the freezing cold balcony and feeling <em> fucking hollow, </em> Ten couldn’t even bring himself to regret it. Sure he wished he’d prepared himself more. He wished he could step back in time, shake his past self out of that lovesick fantasy, and remind himself that things could go really <em> fucking </em> wrong in just the blink of an eye. But regret? How could he regret almost four years of perfection?</p><p>“Knew you’d be out here,” Johnny’s voice behind him was almost a whisper, but it gave enough warning for Ten to wipe his eyes. “Kun called and asked if we’re still on for dinner at his place tonight. I told him you were feeling a little under the weather, but that I’d ask you and call him back.”</p><p>Johnny was dressed in his gym clothes - when he was stressed, he usually took it out on the punching bag or went for a run - and normally, Ten was all over him when he came home this way, biceps out and dripping with pheromones. But Ten felt cold that evening, and meeting Johnny’s eyes after a full day of avoiding each other was like taking an icepick to the sternum.</p><p>“I don’t really want to see anyone tonight, Johnny. Including you. I’m still angry.”</p><p>The desperation in Johnny’s eyes was the pettiest, nastiest reward. It was low, <em> low, </em> and Ten knew it, but he was suffering and he wanted to know that he wasn’t the only one.</p><p>“I know, Ten. I know…” Despite this, Johnny still reached out and put his hands on Ten’s shoulders, gripping gently and trying to rub out the knots in his muscles with his thumbs. “I get that you’re mad. Actually, I got this book that someone recommended for you— it’s normal for military wives to be angry, or depressed, it’s like a grief process—”</p><p>
  <em> I’m going to be deployed again, Ten. They just told us this morning. In six months— </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What do you mean, deployed? Where are they sending you? Six months— Johnny, that’s more than enough time, of course I’m going with you. You know learning languages is no problem for me. I’ll go anywhere. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ten, stop. Listen. You’re not coming. I’m going to Kuwait. </em>
</p><p>“Stop talking about it,” Ten snapped. It was meant to sound angry and final, but in his own ears, it echoed like a plea. <em> Stop talking about it, don’t make me think about it. I can’t handle it. </em> “I can’t listen to this right now. I can’t <em> deal with </em>this right now. Didn’t I ask you to leave me alone?”</p><p>Johnny’s hands dropped abruptly, leaving only the memory of their pressure. No words— nothing but footsteps, and then the door slamming behind him. Once more, Ten was alone. He hadn’t been alone for the past four years, and he figured now was the time to get used to it.</p><p>When he finally ventured back inside, it was scarcely 9 PM, but Johnny had settled himself on the pull-out couch in the living room, with nothing but one too-short blanket and a living room throw pillow. When Ten shuffled into the room, Johnny conveniently rolled over in his sleep to face the wall— Ten had to stand there for nearly ten seconds in absolutely perfect silence before Johnny let slip a quiet sob blended into a hiccup, which broke any leftover resolve that Ten might have had. Johnny had never cried in front of him, never once, and the fact that he was <em> still </em> fighting it back made Ten feel rotten to the core.</p><p>He’d wanted to hurt Johnny, but in reality, Johnny was just as much a victim as he was. Johnny had been hurting all along, and Ten had only twisted the knife.</p><p>“Baby, I’m sorry. Please don’t sleep out here by yourself. Come to bed.”</p><p>Johnny stayed silent, frozen, and Ten’s heart sank. He was being ignored, and he deserved it. He was about to open his mouth again and tell him that <em> if anyone deserves to sleep on the couch tonight it’s me, </em> but then before he could, Johnny spoke up: “I didn’t join the Army to personally hurt you. It’s a decision I made <em> seven years ago, </em> before I even knew you <em> existed. </em> I didn’t know that I would get deployed again, much less that my deployment would fall right when I’d be planning on getting married—”</p><p>“I know. I’m sorry, I know it’s not your fault. I just felt like shit— and you were the easiest person to get mad at. And I’m really, really sorry.” Ten tried to swallow his tears - it felt unfair to cry all of a sudden - and when Johnny didn’t move, he decided to sit on the mattress beside him instead.</p><p>Tentatively, he reached out to touch Johnny’s hair, and immediately, Johnny leaned into the touch, pressed himself against it. Silent forgiveness, or at least Ten wanted to think so.</p><p>“If I could put it off, I would. But I have to do this, Ten. It’s literally the purpose of my job. My country needs me, and I need to go.”</p><p>“I know. I know.” It felt like there was nothing to say. It felt like everything around Ten was just <em> crumbling. </em> He kept petting Johnny’s hair, playing with the soft strands between his fingers. Since childhood, Ten had taken to pulling out his own hairs during times of stress; now, he found, he could get a similar satisfaction just running his fingers again and again through Johnny’s dark hair, and his protective instincts for the other would never let him pull. “I’m not mad— I’m <em> trying </em>not to be. Just come to bed, please?”</p><p>Ten had never thought he’d willingly share his bed with another person - he liked his space - but after so many months of living together, Ten wasn’t sure he could sleep without Johnny. He didn’t want to try until he had to, and as he listened to Johnny’s shaky breaths taper off into sleep, he vowed to himself that he wouldn’t go to sleep angry if he could help it.</p><p>//</p><p>Why was it so easy not to think about what Johnny did all day? Ten was an artist, and Johnny always knew what he was working on. Often times, he would come home and go directly to Ten’s studio to fetch him for dinner, and he would always take the time to see what he was doing. If he had to guess, it didn’t seem like Johnny knew a great deal about art, but he was always enthusiastic when he saw Ten’s work. Every one of Ten’s pieces was the coolest thing Johnny had ever seen, and he wasn’t going to lie, there was nothing sweeter than that confidence boost.</p><p>Similarly, Ten didn’t know much of <em> anything </em> about military life, and he didn’t have the benefit of getting to see it in action, the way Johnny could watch Ten paint or sculpt. If he asked Johnny what he’d done at work all day, the answer was always something benign, something that meant very little to him. “Ran drills all day.” “The newbies that just came from basic really suck.” “Oh hey, guess what, they’re going to teach me how to fix tanks!”</p><p>During one of those glorious mid-afternoon post-sex cuddle sessions that they so often had on Johnny’s days off, while Johnny was kissing along Ten’s collarbone and gearing up to propose a second round, something about it had vaguely clicked in Ten’s mind. It was something in the callouses on Johnny’s fingers as they brushed over his hipbones, always so rough despite the delicacy of his touch, giving him goosebumps. Ten could remember taking one of those big, rough hands between both of his small, delicate ones, kissing every knuckle and fingertip. “Look at your hands compared to mine! I just have this callus here, from how I hold a pencil— your hands look like you’ve been living out in the wilderness or something, chopping down trees and hunting moose with a bow and arrow.”</p><p>“That’s what happens when you spend all day fixing shit and shooting guns,” Johnny answered with amusement, stopping his kisses and just letting his head rest against Ten’s shoulder as he admired their fingers twined together.</p><p>“Oh.” Ten wasn’t sure why that hit him the way that it did, and he didn’t quite know what to say at first. When Johnny shifted beside him, seeming a little uncomfortable with the sudden quiet, Ten admitted in explanation, “This might sound stupid, but I can’t really picture you shooting a gun. You’re like… a gentle giant. You’re too cute to be deadly.”</p><p>Johnny had laughed. “I’m actually an <em> excellent </em> shot. I could take you to the shooting range sometime, if you wanted to learn.”</p><p>“Guns freak me out! I’m a pacifist, remember? I think my hands will stick to what they’re good at.” Ten brought Johnny’s hand back to his hip, guiding rough skin against lily-soft and drawing forth his own sigh of pleasure. “I don’t think you understand how much I love the way you touch me…”</p><p>“Hm. Is that a hint?” His hand lingered for a moment, tracing Ten’s hipbone deliciously slowly with his thumb, before he shifted quickly to straddle him again. His lips were hot on Ten’s chest, the light brush of his stubble practically making the younger purr. Yes, his Johnny was perfect, every last <em> inch </em> of him— but from then on, those hands he so loved served as a gentle reminder that Johnny was never fully <em> his, </em>that there was a side of him that Ten wouldn’t understand no matter how he tried.</p><p>//</p><p>Regular days off were no longer guaranteed, but Ten tried to make the most of it when they came. Breakfast together had always been a Sunday tradition, but in the craziness of pre-deployment, it became an everyday-that-we-can tradition. Eggs, bacon, toast, and of <em> course </em> a piping hot French press of Johnny’s favorite dark roast— </p><p>“Smells good in here,” Johnny’s sleepy voice from the kitchen doorway made Ten whirl around in surprise— taking in Johnny in all his bare-ass-naked glory, leaning against the doorframe. “Need a hand?”</p><p>“No! I told you to stay in bed until I came back for you,” Ten huffed, pausing for only a moment to glare at him before his attention returned to whisking the eggs and milk to perfection. “This was supposed to be a surprise breakfast in bed! And anyway— I’m frying bacon, you know, coming in here with no pants on is probably the worst thing you could possibly do.”</p><p>“You <em> never </em> want me to be naked! It’s not fair! I’m an adult!” Johnny called out in jest on the way back to the bedroom. Sparing another glance at him, his paste-white ass on full display, Ten felt a strong surge of affection followed by an unintentional twinge of anxiety. Soon there would be no one to scold for walking around shamelessly naked in front of open windows. No one to tell him that he made the best scrambled eggs in the entire world. No one to explain to him, ever so patiently, why the organically sourced fair trade Ethiopian coffee was infinitely better than Folger’s (“coffee-flavored dirt”), which was only a quarter of the price. Breakfast would be alone, seven days a week.</p><p>When he brought the tray in, Johnny stood up to help him with it, letting Ten settle in beside him before they began. “You’re such a good boyfriend. I almost feel like I don’t deserve you,” he remarked, kissing the side of Ten’s neck while the younger sipped his coffee.</p><p>He smiled faintly. “Well, then, should I go?”</p><p>“That’s not what I said!” Johnny smiled against his skin, exhaling softly, before he whispered, “We should get married before I have to leave. I mean, we can have the wedding ceremony when I come back, but we can go to the courthouse and sign the papers and everything— hell, we can do it this weekend, if you want to. Make it all legal and official.”</p><p>Momentarily, Ten forgot how to breathe. The wedding had been planned, tentatively, for June, but Johnny would be leaving in April. How special could it be, really, to have a necessity-wedding at a courthouse? In <em> January? </em> For some reason, thinking about it made Ten dizzy with anxiety, and he shook his head without thinking.</p><p>“I need to think about it first, Johnny. I-I mean— it’s a good idea, it’s just… I only plan on getting married once, and I want it to be special. I want it to be <em> perfect, </em> and I’m okay with waiting a little longer than we planned to make it that way…”</p><p>
  <em> I only plan on getting married once, and if I marry you and you don’t come back, what will I do then? </em>
</p><p>Johnny said that he understood, hugged Ten and told him that they would do whatever he wanted them to do— but the silence that followed was impossible to fill. Johnny had faith that things would work out, and it made Ten feel even more guilty for anticipating all the worst.</p><p>//</p><p>Ten couldn’t remember the day that he and Johnny began to talk, but their first date, and their first kiss, were on Valentine’s Day, so they would always consider that their anniversary. Johnny had picked him up for dinner with a dozen roses, which Ten had made mistake of bringing inside to find a vase for; back in those days, he’d still lived with his mother, and she’d used the opportunity to interrogate Johnny in the living room.</p><p>Dinner had been lovely, though— a top-floor restaurant in Manhattan, window seating, a fantastic view of the city lights that Ten only admired for about half a second before Johnny became the sole thing in his vision. He’d worn a blazer and tie, which made Ten feel under-dressed, and then when he’d pointed it out, Johnny’s whole face had gone red. <em> “I was worried about that. My stupid roommate told me to wear this. If it’s any consolation, you look so much better than me.” </em></p><p>They’d kissed at the very end, in the car, outside of Ten’s apartment. It was funny, because Johnny had seemed so shy when he’d asked if he could give Ten a goodnight kiss, and Ten had <em> felt </em> so shy when he said yes, but then their lips had come together and hadn’t wanted to separate. Fifteen minutes later, the car was still idling in a no-parking zone, and Ten had to forcefully drag himself away from the hottest kiss of his life in order to remind Johnny that he was <em> supposed </em> to be leaving.</p><p><em> “Shit. I’m really sorry. You’re just hard to say goodnight to.” </em> Johnny smiled self-consciously, running the pad of his thumb across Ten’s cheek. <em> “I’ll text you when I get home?” </em></p><p>
  <em> “You’d better.” </em>
</p><p>Their anniversary would never evoke a stronger memory. It would always be that: holding hands across the table, kissing Johnny’s cold lips and warming them up with his tongue, wishing to hell that he could have invited him up to spend the night. (That was third date territory, though— and it was worth the wait.)</p><p>But through <em> this </em> February, Johnny’s schedule became somewhat more erratic. Sometimes he would be called in on days off, other times a training would end two, three hours later than anticipated. Ten had more or less given up on having dinner ready for him when he got home, but on their anniversary, they’d made reservations at that same restaurant as every year, booked over a week in advance.</p><p>For once, during this stupid time of uncertainty, Ten wanted a moment that he could count on and predict every single year. He wanted to treat Johnny to a fantastic dinner, then drive the long way home while listening to their favorite music on the radio; then, of course, he wanted Johnny to kiss him in the car, press him back against the seat and <em> really </em> kiss him like it was their first time again. Except this time, they’d go upstairs together, fall into bed together, possibly get a noise complaint from the neighbors. <em> Bliss. </em></p><p>Except 6:00 came, and Johnny didn’t appear at the door. 7:00 came - Ten finally changed out of his paint-covered clothes and into something nice, just in case - and he hadn’t received so much as a phone call. Their reservation was at eight, they needed to leave home at 7:30 to make it— and when his phone calls went directly through to voicemail, he had a dark feeling in his stomach. They weren’t going to make it. <em> Johnny </em> wasn’t going to make it.</p><p>8:00. No sign. Ten paced the hallway, listening for the sound of the elevator. If he stopped, he was pretty sure he’d have an anxiety attack. By 8:15, he was pretty sure their reservation was as good as gone, but he called to cancel it anyway, trying to breathe deep and not let the hostess hear the tears in his shaking voice.</p><p>8:30. 9:00. Ten tried to tell himself that he should have expected this, even that he should have been <em> happy </em> for his boyfriend. After all— <em> he’s so brave. So selfless. I wish I could be proud of him. </em></p><p>It was past 9:30 when Ten heard the front door open, Johnny’s footsteps light and almost ashamed (or maybe Ten was just projecting). Ten was already in bed; he’d felt too sick to eat himself, but as Johnny stepped into the bedroom doorway, he murmured into the darkness, “I ordered Chinese food. It’s in the fridge. Eat dinner before you come to bed, yeah?”</p><p>“I’m sorry, baby. We weren’t able to leave until everyone finished the drills perfectly. I was waiting on everyone else, and I couldn’t get them to let me go. Believe me, I asked.”</p><p>“Yeah. Figures. I couldn’t get ahold of you. It’s scary, to not know where you are.” Even thinking about it made Ten start to cry all over again, and he pulled Johnny’s pillow over his face, trying to smother the sobs out of himself. He had to get used to not knowing where Johnny was. Pretty soon, he wouldn’t have a choice. “It’s fine. We can celebrate tomorrow. Or if you get kept late again, we can celebrate the next day. It’s fine, Johnny.”</p><p>“Ten, look.” Johnny’s voice was almost pleading, but Ten couldn’t uncover his face. Not until Johnny grabbed his wrist and gently prompted his hand down. In the dark, Ten could only just make out the bouquet of roses he held in his hand. “Happy anniversary, babe. I love you. More than words can say…”</p><p>Ten hiccuped, clung to his pillow stubbornly until Johnny pried it out of his hands and leaned down to kiss his tear-streaked cheeks.</p><p>“You don’t have to say it’s fine. I know you’re hurt. And I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“Truthfully? I’m <em> furious </em> with you. But I know I can’t be, because it’s not your fault, and it makes me feel like absolute <em> shit. </em> And— I don’t want things to change. I just want you to stay.”</p><p>“I know. I know, baby.” But there was nothing more that could be said. They’d already <em> said </em> everything, already had all the conversations. No, Johnny couldn’t get out of it. No, Ten wouldn’t marry him before he left, and no, he wouldn’t explain why. Explaining would have given him a stomachache.</p><p>Instead, there was only room for kisses, and Ten couldn’t turn them away— because at least, for a moment, they would make him forget. Starting with his eyes, Johnny kissed away the tears that clung to his lashes, the damp remnants on his cheeks; then their lips came together with the same passion as always, the same all-consuming desire, the same quiet urgency as Johnny slid his hands under Ten’s shirt and pushed the fabric out of the way.</p><p>“I’m a little tired, baby… how about you get on top and ride me tonight?” The request was out of nowhere, and Ten felt selfish at the wave of disappointment that he felt; it must have showed on his face, because Johnny didn’t wait for a response, only grasping Ten’s wrists and pinning him down as he kissed his way down his chest. Without another word of complaint, he fucked Ten in exactly the way he liked, pressing him into the mattress and gripping his hips tight enough to bruise, the way he’d done it the very first time. It was all perfect, except for the massive wave of guilt he felt when they were done, when Johnny simply rolled onto his back and closed his eyes and said nothing.</p><p>“What are you thinking about?” Ten inquired into the darkness, cuddling up against Johnny’s shoulder, his heart pounding.</p><p>“I don’t know. Nothing.”</p><p>“I’m sorry I’m being so shitty about this.”</p><p>“It’s okay.”</p><p>On the night of their fourth anniversary, it was hard to believe, but it was the first time that Ten seriously considered ending it. He could have packed up a bag, gone to his mother’s house, and sent his friends for the rest of his things. But that was what a shitty boyfriend would have done, and Ten was driven and determined to show Johnny how good he could be. <em> Tomorrow morning, we’re going to start fresh. I’m going to do better. </em></p><p>It seemed like a good promise.</p><p>//</p><p>The days that were good were <em> amazing. </em> Sometimes Johnny got home on time, sometimes they went on dates, sometimes they went to the suburb for the night and visited Johnny’s parents and slept in his old bedroom, piled together in his twin-sized bed. Sometimes they shouted along with love songs on the radio. Sometimes they fucked like they didn’t have neighbors, with the bed frame knocking against the wall and Ten crying out every dirty word that came to mind.</p><p>Sometimes Ten would close his eyes and pretend that things were okay. Sometimes that was enough.</p><p>“When you get back…” Sometimes those words were okay. Sometimes they filled Ten with this crazy sense of optimism, because in all likelihood, Johnny <em> would </em>be back. They’d pick up right where they left off, get married, finally buy a house if the money was all there. There was no better thought.</p><p>“When I get back, what?”</p><p>Ten smiled to himself, cuddled into Johnny’s naked body, pressed his face into his fiancé’s chest and breathed in the intoxicating scents of sex and cologne.</p><p>“When you get back, I’m going to jump you at the door and rip your clothes off before you can even put your suitcases down.”</p><p>“I figured it would be something like that.”</p><p>Ten pouted, wiggling himself closer and closing his eyes. “I’ll give you the single best blowjob you’ve ever had in your entire life, and then I’ll cook you whatever you want to eat, and I’ll give you a massage. I already can’t wait.”</p><p>Johnny laughed quietly, rolling onto his back and rolling Ten with him. <em> I love when you cuddle up on top of me and use me as a pillow. It’s so cute. It reminds me how tiny you are, </em> Johnny had told him before, and Ten kept this in mind as he rested his cheek against Johnny’s ribcage and listened to his heart beat.</p><p>“You know, there’s nothing stopping you from giving me a massage right <em> now </em>if you really can’t wait.”</p><p>Ten answered by squeezing Johnny’s ass, which made him arch his back in surprise and break into laughter. Ten was one of the few people who knew how ticklish Johnny was there, and the reaction never got old.</p><p>A day would come, sooner or later, for one reason or another, that Ten wouldn’t be able to do this anymore. Even if Johnny didn’t go, that day would <em> still </em> come whether they liked it or not. Nothing was forever. The singular thought came out of nowhere, and before Ten could dismiss it, he had burst into tears.</p><p>//</p><p>“Should we break up?”</p><p>It was a good day, which made the question all the more surprising. Johnny had gotten home just past six, and they’d gone out for dinner “just because”, to a swanky place with fabric tablecloths and a single rose in a vase in the middle of the table. It harkened back to Valentine’s Day in the best way possible, and Ten was about to comment on how much he <em> loved </em> red roses— when Johnny dropped the question out of nowhere and nearly made Ten choke on his water.</p><p>“I’m leaving it up to you. I don’t want you to have any regrets, Ten.”</p><p>Ten opened his mouth to tell Johnny he was crazy, that he <em> didn’t </em> have any regrets, but he stopped himself. Johnny probably didn’t want him to say that just for his benefit. So he went silent and turned his attention to the wine list, watching the letters swim in his vision.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Okay?” Johnny repeated, voice sharp with concern— because he had offered to break up, but that didn’t really mean that he <em> wanted </em> to.</p><p>“Okay, as in, I’ll think about it. I don’t want either of us to regret this, either. You’re so important to me…” Ten’s throat tightened, and Johnny reached quickly across the table to grab his hand and squeeze it tight.</p><p>“God, I’m such an idiot. I’m sorry. I should have waited for the end of the meal to say that…”</p><p>“Yeah. Yeah, probably. But it’s okay.” Yeah, Johnny was pretty clumsy when it came to words, but that was one of about a billion things that Ten loved fiercely about him. “Let’s just— not talk about any of that stuff for right now. Let’s pretend none of it exists.”</p><p>Ten was the one to suggest it, and yet, he couldn’t pretend anymore. Johnny had given him a fantastic out, and— well, there was a point, while he was pushing his food around from one side of his plate to the other, that he thought it might be a good idea. It would hurt, but it would certainly hurt less than getting the notice that something had happened. Or worse yet, sitting home and waiting for a call and <em> wondering. </em></p><p>Yes, he was going to break up with him. He nearly protested when Johnny gave the waitress his credit card to front the whole bill; Johnny had to know what was coming, but as expected, he was a gentleman until the end. Ten had to stop himself from taking Johnny’s hand on the way out of the restaurant, and when Johnny asked if he wanted to take the long way home (code for “we need to talk”), Ten immediately declined. They drove home with nothing but the radio, and Ten tucked his hands under his thighs to hide their trembling.</p><p>In the parking lot, he was silent. In the elevator, he was silent. In the kitchen, before he could even take his coat off, he thought he noticed a shimmer in Johnny’s eyes that indicated tears, and suddenly, he was broken. All at once, Ten threw his arms around Johnny’s waist, buried his face in his shoulder, and fucking <em> sobbed, </em>and Johnny said nothing, didn’t try to kiss him or console him, simply held him close, nice and tight.</p><p>
  <em> “I can’t. I can’t leave you! Why would you even put this idea in my head— !” </em>
</p><p>“Ten, calm down. I’m not asking you to leave me,” Johnny whispered in his ear. He always had a way about things like this, keeping his voice steady and impassive; usually it gave Ten a sense of security, but lately, it made him worry that it was all over. “I’m giving you the choice. I know <em> why </em> you’re scared, and I understand, and— there’s a chance I won’t come back. That’s why I want to marry you, but that’s why you <em> don’t </em> want to get married, isn’t it?”</p><p>Talking about it made the possibility feel so real. His chest ached sharply, nausea bubbled in his stomach. As clearly as he could once imagine his future, he could now imagine the phone call, the empty apology, the assurance that Johnny had died with honor, as though that would be any consolation. Johnny felt a duty to his country that Ten just couldn’t fathom, enough to die for it, and Ten— Ten would just as soon watch everything burn around him and hold onto the only person who had ever made him <em> love </em> this hard.</p><p>“If you don’t come back, it’s never going to be the same. I don’t think it matters if I get married to you or <em> not, </em>because either way I’m going to be broken if you don’t come back.”</p><p><em> You die, I die. </em> Ten didn’t want to say it, but it was the inevitable truth.</p><p>“If I die, you need to pull through.” Johnny spoke as surely as if he had heard Ten’s thoughts. “I know that’s what’s scaring you, and I know you don’t want to talk about it, but that’s how I feel, all right? I’m not scared of dying— I mean, I don’t <em> expect </em> that I’m going to die, I guess. But if I do, I don’t want you to do anything stupid because of it.”</p><p>He would, though. He absolutely would. He inhaled shakily, nodded even though he didn’t mean it, and hung onto Johnny for dear life. “I love you. That’s not ever going to change. If you want us to break up before you go, then you have to do the breaking up.”</p><p>“Never.” Johnny <em> almost </em> laughed, but he seemed to swallow it up, the way his arms swallowed up Ten. “Let’s spend every second that we can together until I have to go, okay? I— I don’t want to be stuck over there for six months, wishing that I’d kissed you more while I was here.”</p><p>Oddly enough, for once, they didn’t consummate the end of their fight with sex. That night, they simply held each other. Kissed and kissed and kissed.</p><p>//</p><p>Johnny’s plane would depart at 6 AM. He needed to arrive to the airport at 3, and of course, Ten was awake with him at 1:30. Alternating between watching him pack and staring out the window at the rain, worrying that doing either for too long would make him cry. Once more, he made Johnny a cup of coffee, and wondered if he’d ever use the french press again.</p><p>“Ready to go?”</p><p>Never. “Yeah.” Ten poured the strong black coffee into a travel mug, avoiding Johnny’s eyes as he handed it to him.</p><p>“You’re good to drive, right?” Johnny handed Ten his car keys, perhaps for the first time in his life. Johnny always preferred to drive, and Ten preferred to watch him, admiring the way his strong hands gripped the steering wheel, the way he got aggravated and ran his fingers through his hair when traffic was ridiculous. He couldn’t even think about it as he gripped the keys in his fist.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Johnny smiled a little. <em> Such a beautiful smile. </em> He kissed Ten on the nose, and whispered, “You’re the best.”</p><p>The ride was strangely quiet for the most part; Ten was hyper-focused on the road, barely acknowledging Johnny as the older held his hand and fidgeted with his fingers. Every so often, he would brave a glance, and sometimes Johnny would look back, and— </p><p>“You’re going to be okay, Ten.”</p><p>“Will you?”</p><p>“I’ll do everything I possibly can. I’m determined to come back here and marry you, y’know.” He gave a dry little chuckle. “A little bitter that you turned me down, still, but that only makes me more determined.”</p><p>Ten’s eyes welled up with tears, and he was glad they were nearly there, and that the airport traffic wasn’t terribly busy at this hour. “I’ll marry you when you get home,” he promised, voice quivering. “Like, the <em> day </em> you get home, if you want.”</p><p>“It’ll be October.”</p><p>“Yeah. I don’t care. I’ll be ready.”</p><p>Johnny squeezed Ten’s hand tight as they pulled into the drop-off zone. Ten couldn’t go in with him, and— well, that was probably for the best. He just needed to get home, get some sleep, stop thinking, stop feeling. But at the same time— </p><p>“This might be the last time I ever see you.”</p><p>“Any time could be the last time I ever see you,” Johnny pointed out somberly, in a way that just made <em> too much </em>sense. Ten hated the logical side of him sometimes. But then he smiled, bravely, and pulled Ten against his chest. “It’s just like any other morning. I’m just going to work. I’ll call you when I can, and I’ll be home soon.”</p><p>Johnny was crying, and he could feel it. Ten swallowed the lump in his throat, tried to be strong.</p><p>“I’m so proud of you. And I love you.” Ten gripped Johnny’s shoulders and kissed him hard, in a way he hadn’t envisioned in all the nights he’d so dreaded this moment. It was 2:45 in the morning, and Ten’s life as he knew it was ending, and— for some reason, he was thinking about their first kiss again, the sense he’d had all at once that this was the one, this was <em> his person. </em></p><p>“I love you, too.” Johnny pulled back, with tears on his cheeks, and at the look on Ten’s face, he somehow managed to smile. Another kiss, one that said all the words that neither of them could formulate. Anything else probably would have broken Ten down, so he was almost thankful when Johnny got out of the car without saying anything else, grabbed his bag from the backseat, and gave him a final smile and a wave. Ten got a glimpse, a <em> final </em> glimpse of his face— and he managed to hold it together <em> almost </em> until Johnny disappeared through the airport doors.</p><p>It had to happen. <em> We’ll be married in October. </em> He didn’t necessarily believe, but— well, he <em> had </em> to believe. He owed his Johnny, his one and only, that little bit of faith.</p>
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